


When (a Jedi) in Rome

by Stirl999



Category: Rome (TV 2005), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Rome, Crossover, F/M, Politics, Random Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stirl999/pseuds/Stirl999
Summary: Several years before the events of AOTC, Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker and newly appointed Senator Padmé Amidala find themselves transported to ancient Rome in the last years of the Roman Republic.Rome (HBO Series) and SW crossover.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I've decided to write the Rome/SW crossover no one ever asked for. Oh well. For those not familiar, this crossover is specifically based on the two seasons of the HBO show "Rome", which follows both the historical figures from Caesar to Octavian to Antony, as well as Lucius Vorenus and Titus Pullo. Though these two soldiers are actually mentioned in Caesar's writings, nothing further is known of them from a historical standpoint, so they are for all intents and purposes fictional characters in addition to being the main protagonists of the show.
> 
> Since this story is a crossover with the TV show, where the show and actual history diverge, I will follow the show as "canon/history". This includes liberties the show takes with historical timelines, with minor historical characters such as Atia and Servilia, etc. For those who have not seen the shows, I will try to summarize some of the events in the narrative for as long as the story follows the show's timelines. I do highly recommend the show to all, however.
> 
> As for other random questions like how this is possible (always the Force, duh!) or how the characters all happen to speak the same language (one that very much resembles English), well...this is a dumb fanfic...so they just do!

Anakin Skywalker swore to himself, his concentration broken by a fleeting thought of his mother. As he righted his shoulders to restart his kata, Anakin acknowledged how much he missed her ever more these days. Since Darra's passing the Temple seemed lonelier than ever. Tru Veld had not spoken a word to him since that unfortunate mission, Obi-Wan seemed ever more preoccupied studying the deteriorating political situation of the Republic, and hells, he even missed Ferus Olin sometimes now that he was gone. The former Padawan of Siri Tachi never failed to grate upon his nerves, but Anakin couldn't deny that the rivalry kept him on edge.

Swinging his wrists and moving slowly forward, Anakin decided to defy his master's instructions. He would think of his mother. Those thoughts calmed him, and sharpened his focus. As much as he hated the idea of her remaining on Tatooine, subject to the whims and fortunes of Watto or whomever he probably gambled her away to, Anakin nevertheless had a good feeling about his mother. She was safe, he thought. And happy even. He didn't know how he knew, but he just knew. But that didn't mean he could afford to be complacent. As his movements grew faster in the small training room and sweat started staining his brown robes, Anakin swore to himself that he would be a good Padawan from now on. He would listen to Obi-Wan unfailingly, even when the man was being ridiculous. Whatever it took to become a Knight. Then he would go back to Tatooine and find his mother. Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to stop him then.

And maybe he would pay a visit to a certain planet not far from Tatooine in the Mid-Rim. Actually, Padmé was no longer queen, he remembered. The new Queen had appointed her Senator, he had read on the holonets. It was fitting, Anakin thought. It was a position she deserved after saving her planet as a Queen and presiding over a grand peace; all the better that her new role would soon bring her to Coruscant. Obi-Wan would try to keep him away from her, the old man always prattling on about letting go of his past feelings, but he would find a way. Anakin Skywalker always did.

Maybe the Supreme Chancellor could help. They were from the same planet, after all? Anakin cared nothing about politics, but Palpatine was a friend, a surprising one at that, and in the moments where he was most honest with himself, the idea that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic would go out of his way to show kindness and caring for a former slave seemed almost as wondrous...nay, more so, than the entire Jedi Order sometimes. He could tell the Chancellor that he wanted to spend more time in the Senate, perhaps take on some assignments guarding some of the politicians. Then a reunion would almost be inevitable.

Caught up in his fantasies, Anakin did not sense the ripple in the Force until it was too late. Engulfed by a silent nausea, the entire universe seemed to be swept away from him as he fell, gasping for air. It felt like an eternity before he landed.

One of the perks Padmé enjoyed as Queen of Naboo were the training facilities. Jumping and sweating her way through the obstacles, she fired her blasters in opposite directions, watching with satisfaction as her virtual attackers fell away one after another. She enjoyed the physicality of the exercise, a blessed escape often from the difficulties and challengers of ruling a planet, and somehow she had a feeling that though the war with the Trade Federation was long over, she could still use the practice. Nute Gunray was still at large, after all, and if all the rumors about both Count Dooku's movement as well as the mumblings in the Senate about the creation of an army were true, who knows how long the peace would last.

The scene changed, the simulator moving on from a warehouse level to an outside setting, and Padmé frowned. The new Queen Jamillia must have really gone out of her way to upgrade the training courses, because she swore she could smell the forest, the trees, the flowers. Stepping forward, she heard the crunch of leaves under her foot. It felt...well, it felt real. Sith hells, that couldn't be. The simulator never felt this real before. She stopped. It was odd, the forest was too quiet. Where were the assailants for this level? All she could hear was the chirping of insects around her. The air was humid, that was new too.

"By Shiraya," she muttered to herself, "did Jamillia empty the entire year's treasury to upgrade this thing?" She knelt down, picking up a small leaf and squeezed with her fingers, watching it fracture and break apart in her hands. No, she realized. This was real. Somehow she was outside. She looked around, truly seeing her environs for the first time and studying it. She stood at the edge of a small grass clearing. Ahead of her was some kind of...road? But the road looked primitive, as if all it was was a worn trench cut from the dirt. She looked at the trees around her. They felt...alien to her. They were similar to the trees and bushes she had grown up with on Naboo, yet they seemed entirely different. Something was not right.

"Padmé?" The noise started her, and she spun around quickly, pointing her blasters at the tall figure emerging from the trees behind her. To her surprise, the person was a very young man, whose height belied his youth. His hair was dark blond, his eyes unnervingly blue, though something about those eyes rang the alarm of familiarity in the recesses of her memory. More specifically though, Padmé found her eyes drawn to the small braid in the boy's hair: a Jedi Padawan braid. An idea started to form in her head, but before she could finish the thought the young man spoke.

"Padmé...don't shoot. It's me..." The boy raised his hands in surrender, and Padmé saw that he made no effort to reach for the lightsaber at his hip.

Realizing he was not a threat, she lowered her blasters, and her voice spoken before she had even meant to.

"Anakin...?"

"...me, Anakin. Anakin Skywalker? From Tatooine?"

They stared at each other in confusion, both appraising the other and taking in the changes in appearance after having parted more than eight years ago.

"Ani?" She took a step closer to the young man. He had changed, grown up of course, but once she recognized him all the memories came rushing back to her. Glimpsing around her and seeing that there were no stray observers, she steadily towards him and embraced him in a hug. "Ani," she cried out happily, "of course I remember you."

Pulling away, she saw confusion in his eyes, and sensed more than a bit of shyness in them. He clearly did not expect her to embrace him so boldly, though she saw the beginning of a giddy smile form on his mouth, quickly as he did try to hide it. Padmé laughed. Apparently the boy still had a crush on her, after so many years.

"Milady," he bowed politely, "my apologies. I was not expecting to see you here."

"That's preposterous," Padmé said, her strange experience with the simulator briefly forgotten. "But what are you doing on Naboo? And why did you not tell me beforehand you were coming here? I would have made arrangements, of course...the Queen should make arrangements! Considering that you are a hero..."

"Naboo?" The boy seemed even more confused. "I...I thought..."

"You thought what," Padmé asked. There was something in his expression that suddenly unnerved her, and she remembered the intense feeling of strangeness she had ever since the simulator somehow transported her outside.

"I was on Coruscant...," he started, pacing the small grassy clearing. He saw the strange road, tracing its dirt tracks with one finger, studying the soil. Intrigued, he rose and started down the road, Padmé quickly following him. "It was night...but I couldn't sleep. So I decided to practice a few katas in one of the training rooms."

"Is that your lightsaber," Padmé asked, pointing to the weapon clipped into his belt. She had almost touched it, but then stopped short, remembering how particular Jedi were about their weapons.

"It is," Anakin said, beaming proudly. "I made it myself."

"You've grown," Padmé almost sighed out. "Your mother would be proud of you."

"Thank you," Anakin said shyly, looking away from the Senator and former Queen. Studying their surroundings as they walked, he had no difficulties changing the subject. "So where are we then? I was practicing, and then all of a sudden something swept me off my feet, and I found myself here."

"You did not come to Naboo," Padmé asked. "How long have you been here then?" Tapping into the logical part of her brain, it was clear to her that they were no longer on Naboo. It made no sense how that could be, or why Anakin happened to be here with her, but there was no point denying their new reality. The sooner she acknowledged it, the sooner she could figure out what exactly was going on.

"Only a few minutes," Anakin said, frowning. "Somehow I ended up in these woods. I was walking around, trying to gather my bearings, when I sensed your presence and found you not far away."

"You sensed me," Padmé said. It was startling, and she had to once again remind herself that she was no longer dealing with little Ani Skywalker, but an almost fully grown Jedi Knight now.

"I could sense you from anywhere," Anakin said almost too nonchalantly. Immediately he realized and regretted what he just said, but was relieved when he saw that Padmé barely noticed his slip-up, so intently she was in analyzing their situation. "So you were just on Naboo before...before this?"

Padmé nodded. "I was." She pointed to her blasters. "I was in the middle of a training exercise. Queen Jamillia has generously allowed me the continued use of the palace simulators."

"I don't think this is Naboo," Anakin said thoughtfully.

"No," Padmé answered. "Nor Coruscant."

"What bothers me...," Anakin started, then stopped. Sensing his apprehension, Padmé gently placed her hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. Gods, he had grown tall, she thought as she truly took in his appearance for the first time.

"Go on."

He hesitated. "I sense...I sense no one. Not Master Obi-Wan, or Masters Windu or Yoda, or even...even..."

"Your mother?"

Anakin nodded.

"And you're usually able to sense them all from...from a distance?"

He nodded again. "Not strongly, mind you. It's not like I can sense my mom like she's sitting in the room with me. Or standing next to me here, like you are. But there's...there's usually something. Like a signal...weak and faraway, but still there."

"Okay," Padmé said. His musings were doing nothing to comfort her about the seriousness of their predicament, and she found that she could not help but grip his arm tighter. "So somehow we were just transported to what appears to be a foreign planet. I don't know where, or how, or...but...this is not Naboo. Or Coruscant. Or anywhere either one of us have been." She thought further on the situation. "If you cannot sense those you are accustomed to sensing, my guess is somehow we're on the edges of the Outer Rim. Or maybe Wild Space?"

"Shhh," Anakin whispered suddenly, bracing his body. "Someone's watching us."

Sure enough, an object flew in the air at them, and with lightning speed, Anakin bent backwards while pulling Padmé sharply back as well, their faces avoiding being struck by the object by mere inches. It hit a nearby tree, and Padmé noted that it resembled a vibroblade...except much cruder. Before she could react, several figures emerged upon them from the trees. Noting that several them held the same blade like weapon in their hands, she immediately pulled out her blaster just as she heard the hum of Anakin's lightsaber. Reacting quickly, she shot at the assailant closest to her, the man crying out in pain and dropping his weapon as the blast marked his wrist. Next to her, in a matter of seconds, Anakin had somehow cut down two assailants. One of the men, for they did appear to be human, looked at the stump of where his arm had been in shock and unreserved horror. The other, a burly fellow who had been the closest to striking Anakin, lay dead on the ground, a charred hole through his chest.

"Look...we don't want any trouble," Anakin started, but before he could finish, the two surviving attackers uttered some sharp swears in a foreign language, then ran away as fast as they could back into the forest. He looked quickly at Padmé, who stood crouched and still ready to fight, clearly surprised as he that their attackers had given up so easily. They were obviously human, she thought, though their weapons were quite primitive, and they smelled worse than some of the foulest shaaks out in lake country.

"Well this is interesting."

Both Anakin and Padmé jumped at the sound of a soft voice behind them. Turning around quickly, they saw two armored men flanking either side of a young boy with curly, sandy colored hair. All three of them were straddling some kind of beast resembling the horses of Dathomir, the boy's mount a white one. Both men looked at them with the same shock their attackers had displayed before running away, while the teenager, though Anakin could sense his fear, seemed to hide it well, and his face displayed only a kind of disinterested curiosity.

"Gods," one of the men started to stammer out. He was a huge, brute of a man, taller than even Anakin, with short dark hair. "...are ye...Gods?"

"Quiet Pullo," the other man, shorter with clipped blond hair several shades lighter than Anakin's, ordered to his companion. "Don't alarm them."

"We mean you no harm," the boy started to say, his eyes studying their weapons. "And no offense either," he hastily added.

"Are you Apollo," the blond man asked sternly at Anakin. He looked up at the sky. "No, the sun remains in the sky. Mercury, then. And you," he turned his attention to Padmé, "not, not Venus. But Minerva?"

Realizing something horrific, the man quickly jumped off of his creature and onto the ground. Crouching into a bow, suddenly he dared not to even look at them. His larger companion, Pullo was his name, did the same, though the boy remained on his mount, frozen with indecision.

"Forgive our sacrilege, my lords," the blond man said, hands now trembling.

Padmé laughed out loud. Everything was so preposterous, she could do nothing but laugh. "By Shiraya, we are not Gods," she scoffed. She looked over to her companion. "Right Anakin?"

He shook his head. "Prophecy or not, I'm definitely not a God."

"Please! Rise!" Padmé shouted at the men, though she still kept her distance. "This is becoming embarrassing."

As the two armored men, warriors by the looks of them, rose uncertainly, the spoke again in his oddly impassive tone. "So you claim not to be Gods. Maybe you're not. You could be lying of course. Or maybe you're not aware of it, I've heard such stories. But whatever you are, you are obviously not from here."

The blond pointed towards Anakin as he spoke in deference to the boy. "Perhaps they come from the Celtic tribes across the waters. I've heard stories from some of the legions who campaigned in Britannia...they speak of magic and wizardry in the far northern hills."

Padmé stepped forward, extending her hand towards the shorter warrior. He seemed higher than his taller companion in hierarchy, though both of them seemed to act deferentially towards the boy, who carried himself with an air of aristocratic grandeur.

"I believe we have yet to introduce ourselves. I'm Senator Amidala of Naboo, and next to me..."

Before she could finish, both the boy, who appeared to be several years younger than even Anakin, and the man called Pullo guffawed in laughter, while the blond soldier still stared at her as if she were some kind of ghost.

"What is so funny," Anakin asked, stepping up next to Padmé and clearly not liking the tone of their laughter.

"You," Pullo asked incredulously, "a Senator? Senator of what?"

"The Republic," Padmé said indignantly, her patience trying.

"I am Octavian of the Julii," the boy spoke haughtily. "I come straight from Rome, and am quite familiar with the names of every Senator of the Republic. Unless things have changed dramatically since I left weeks ago, I know of no Senator or family by the name Amidala."

"A woman a Senator," Pullo asked, not even trying to keep a straight face. "That's a good one. You're a funny little piece."

The hum of Anakin's blue blade brought everyone to silence. "Do not speak to Padmé like that, or..."

"Ani," Padmé said softly, placing her hand on his wrist and gently nudging him to deactivate his weapon, which he grudgingly did so. She then turned back to the group. "Clearly this is a misunderstanding. I have not heard of Rome, but I was appointed several months ago to the Galactic Senate by Queen Jamillia. My friend here is Anakin Skywalker, who serves a Padawan in the Jedi Order under Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Apparently none of her words sparked any recognition in the small group. If anything, it made them more confused. Nevertheless, the blond warrior stepped forward politely, his hands still shaking.

"Pardon our rudeness...Senator," gesturing towards Pullo, as if apologizing for him. "I am Lucius Vorenus, Centurion of the Thirteenth Legion." He pointed at Pullo. "Titus Pullo, Legionary, also of the Thirteenth Legion."

"You are soldiers then," Padmé remarked, racking her brain trying to remember from her old classes and briefings any known planets called Rome, with apparently fairly primitive home guard legions. "If you don't mind me asking, where are we? What is this Rome you mention?"

Pullo gave his companions yet another incredulous look. "They...they've never heard of Rome!"

"We are in Gaul," Vorenus said firmly, quickly recovering his soldierly bearing. He pointed behind him. "Rome is in that direction, several weeks' ride away."

Anakin looked warily at Padmé. "First thing I do when I get back to the temple is to tell Master Nu that her records are incomplete," he said with an almost mischievous glint in his eye, clearly looking forward to confounding the old Archivist. "I've never seen a planet named Gaul, and trust me, I've spent months studying all the systems."

"Planet," Vorenus asked sharply. "Gaul is not a planet."

"What planet is this," Anakin started, "if I may ask then?"

"Planet?" Vorenus repeated himself. He pointed to the ground. "This?"

"Juno's cunt," Pullo swore next to him. "Are you mad? This is just...well. Here. Earth. Terra. Gaia."

"By the line of your questioning," Octavian said, his expression still coldly neutral despite what his young mind was quickly processing and understanding, "I can infer that you will claim to come from other stars or planets."

"Ummm...well yeah," Anakin responded. Obi-Wan would be proud of him, he tried very hard to not roll his eyes.

"By the stars," Vorenus muttered, "I've gone mad, so help me Mars."

"None of you have met travelers from other planets," Padmé asked carefully, pointing at the skies while trying her best to maintain her diplomatic tone.

"You are Gods," Pullo muttered, suddenly nervous again.

Anakin stared blankly at Padmé as they both tried to take in the situation. Facts, he thought to himself, trying to gather his brain in order. This was a human civilization. This was an intelligent civilization. This was an extremely primitive civilization, completely ignorant of the state of the Galaxy. And that could only mean something terrible.

"So you have no ships that can travel offworld," Anakin asked, realization dawning upon him.

"Offworld?" Vorenus batted his eyes. "The Roman fleet can cross the Great Sea barring..."

"He means to the stars, Vorenus," Octavian scolded arrogantly.

"You believe them?"

Octavian squinted his eyes, and Anakin had the feeling that the boy's brain never once stopped thinking and analyzing them this entire encounter.

"You saw their weapons, Pullo, and what they can do. It's impossible, but when there is simply no rational explanation, only truth remains, however improbable."

"Or they're Gods," Vorenus said.

"I'll believe in star travelers before that," Octavian said dismissively. He rode out towards the two. "I'm sure you wish to return to wherever you come from. Unfortunately, I do not know how you will accomplish that. You may accompany us, however, if that is your wish. Or not. Clearly you've shown that you can handle the ood bandits here and there. But I'm afraid that aside from us, you will not find much in company of quality on this side of the Alps."

"And where is it exactly you're going," Anakin asked skeptically. There was something to this boy, he sensed. Not that he could trust him, in fact Anakin sensed the opposite. But the Force seemed to swirl around the boy, amplifying the importance with which he already carried himself with.

"Alesia," Octavian replied. "My uncle, the General and Consul Gaius Julius Caesar, has just won a great battle over the combined tribes of Gaul. I am to present this horse as a gift on behalf of my mother, his niece."

"The young man was accosted and taken captive by a small band of outlaws while on his way," Vorenus stated. "Fortunately we ran into them while searching for Caesar's standard."

"Pompey's spies," Pullo muttered with distaste in his mouth, gesturing towards a small box on the wagon their horses were pulling.

"That is to be determined by Caesar once we reach camp," Vorenus grumbled.

Octavian spoke again. "I will not stay long, and you may accompany me back to Rome if you wish. The roads are plagued with bandits and fugitives, as you can tell, and I can use the protection. In return, I will speak to my uncle on your behalf, and I offer you the assistance and the resources of our House once in Rome. I do not know how you can return to your place in the stars, but if you can't find it in Rome, I doubt you'll find it anywhere else."

"How can you be so sure," Padmé asked. The boy was well connected, that was for sure. At the very least to some local warlord, and possible to the nobility of this Rome place they all kept referring to. She noted that in dealing with him, she needed to treat him on the same level as her, as a politician for all intents and purposes.

Pullo laughed. "Cause Rome is the center of the fucking world."


	2. Chapter 2

To say fresh air was a commodity on Coruscant would be misleading, for that would imply it existed. To Anakin, the Force felt just as fresh on this planet, though his brief meditation offered him no inkling as to how he was brought here. It was the Force, of course, and he had heard legends in Jedi lore relating similar instances, but Master Nu claimed no such tales passed down from one imaginative Padawan to the next actually existed in the archives. Apparently, as he always suspected, there was a lot more to the galaxy than the archives.

"It's so dark here," Padmé remarked. They had learned that these Romans slept on simple blankets when travelling. Fortunately they had a few extra in the caravan, so that she and Anakin were fairly comfortable, considering their circumstances. The two soldiers were gathering kindling in the forest somewhere, and as for the boy, she hadn't a clue, though she guessed he was accompanying them. As snooty as Octavian was, he seemed to harbor some kind of unvoiced admiration for the two warriors.

"I don't think they have any lights around here. Nothing but fire to illuminate the night."

"It doesn't sound like Rome will be any more...developed," Padmé said reluctantly, trying not to let the worry bleed into her voice. Though Anakin may have years Jedi training, he was not a Jedi yet. And she, as a Senator, had to take charge of the situation, difficult as that may prove considering the Roman idea of women and their place in society. Regardless, it wouldn't do any good to let her fears infect Anakin.

"I don't think we're going to find a ship back anytime soon," Anakin grumbled.

She studied the contours of his face, sharpened by the glow of the fire. "You still think it was the Force that brought us here."

Anakin nodded. "Like the kid said...it seems impossible, but given our lack of alternative options..." Sensing the unasked question behind her statement, he continued, "I suppose we have to wait for the Force to bring us back somehow. Unless there's a magical portal somewhere back in the woods."

Padmé sighed. Their comms were apparently dead upon arrival, so there were of no use, especially since this Terra or Gaia planet lacked any sort of power docks. It occurred to her that maybe they were in a small uncivilized pocket of the planet, somehow undiscovered by an advanced civilization perhaps on the other side of this world, but there was no use in holding on to such unlikely hopes in the immediate moment.

"Or maybe Obi-Wan feels my reaching out in the Force and somehow finds us." The boy frowned. "I don't think he will though. It just...it doesn't feel right."

"The Force," Padmé asked. Despite everything she had read about the order, so much about the Jedi and their powers still eluded her grasp. It was one thing to know of something, another to truly understand it, and neither Jedi during the occupation eight years prior had bothered to offer her a theological lecture.

"It feels...it's still there, here. But it feels different. It feels wild, and raw...and untapped somehow. Sometimes, it seems like I'm the only one in this entire planet...hell, universe, that can touch it."

She lifted her body slightly with her hands, craning her head to look over towards Anakin. "Does that...does that scare you?"

He didn't answer her but nodded just a bit, then looked away, answering her question. Sensing his discomfort, she decided to change the subject.

"There is something to appreciate in the wildness of this place. It reminds me...of some of the more remote parts of Lake Country."

"Is that on Naboo?" The fascination on Anakin's face towards Padmé's home planet was genuine. Naboo was as close to a paradise as any place he had been. Doubly so considering that it was  _her_ home.

"It is. My family has a small estate there. Varykino holds some of my happiest memories as a child...before politics took over my life."

"So there was a little girl once upon a time," Anakin said, almost teasingly. "Before all the politics and the fancy dresses."

"Trust me, she had plenty of fancy dresses well before the politics began." Padmé smiled at his words, but then turned more pensive. "She was a happy girl though, dresses or not. She loved playing in the woods with her family. Swimming with her sister."

"You will see them again," Anakin said with an intensity that unnerved her slightly. "I miss my mother too. We will return. I feel it. I know it."

His words were comforting, even though she had doubts about how realistic they were. Reaching over to grab his hand, she was surprised see Anakin almost jump at her touch, and remembered that this was not the little boy she met years before, but a young man on the brink of adulthood. And one who apparently had not forgotten his childhood crush over the numerous years. She remembered especially his words to her when they first met in Watto's shop, when he was a slave and she in handmaiden's garb.

_"I'm gonna marry you, you know."_

She had laughed then. Now, thinking back, she had to fight not to blush.

"I don't know how or why," Anakin said, having somehow calmed his hormones, though he happily held on to her hand, "but I'm glad you're the one here with me. I wouldn't want to do this alone."

"I'm glad you're here with me too," Padmé said warmly. "I know you'll be able to figure this out." She meant it. Sabé would have been great, and having Sola or her parents around would have been comforting, but none of them had Jedi powers. And she was glad it was Anakin rather than another Jedi...even one she was familiar with such as Obi-Wan Kenobi. He or any other Jedi would have treated her as a Jedi treated a Senator. Anakin saw her as a person. He always had. "Besides, stranded as we are, this reunion is long overdue."

"Blame Obi-Wan," Anakin muttered, a hint of disgruntlement in his voice. Nevertheless, they lay there side by side for what seemed to be a blissful eternity to Anakin, though it proved mere minutes before they were interrupted.

"Illyria...that will do."

"Huh," Padmé asked, confused. All of a sudden the boy was there across the fire, studying them intently. She had not heard him approach, and neither had Anakin. The lumbering arrival of Vorenus and Pullo was less subtle.

"It lies on the other side of the Adriatic Sea." Octavian pointed to Anakin. "You'll be a merchant on your way to Spain. We saved you from a group of bandits on our way here, but the rest of your group did not survive."

"How long have you been sitting there," Padmé asked warily.

Octavian chuckled, a disquieting sound. "Don't worry. I heard nothing that gave away the secrets behind your wizardry. You'll want to keep that to yourselves when we get to camp, of course."

"Keep it a secret," Anakin asked. He did not like the idea of holding back at all, especially in this strange, potentially hostile planet. But he could tell that Padmé agreed as she looked between the two of them, her political guise returning.

"They thought we were Gods at first, even myself. Do you want to pretend to be a God, Anakin?"

"No, of course not," he asserted.

"Then the alternative is that we are demons. If we cannot offer good tidings and blessings, then we are threats to be destroyed."

"Oh," Anakin said, a bit embarrassed being the last to understand the implications. He could hear Obi-Wan's reproach, even with his master likely billions of parsecs away.

Showing no reaction to their exchange, Octavian turned his finger to Padmé. "The question is what to do with you."

"Just say she's a slave," Pullo said casually, paying no heed to Anakin's unhappy reaction.

"Could work," Vorenus added. "She could pass as a German girl, maybe."

"No," Octavian rebutted immediately. "Her disposition gives her away. I thought about brother and sister too, but that would be inappropriate."

"Inappropriate," Padmé asked. "How so?"

"He's clearly infatuated with you," Octavian stated plainly without blinking. "That would give it away in an instant."

"What?" Anakin rose, reluctantly letting go of Padmé's hand as both soldiers burst into laughter. "You're barely a child! What would you know of such things?"

"I may be a bit younger than you, but I have eyes. I see the way you look at her."

To Anakin's further exasperation, Pullo leaned forward towards them and whispered rather loudly into Padmé's ear, "say the word, girl, and he'll mount you like a rabid dog."

"I..."

"You'll what," Padmé asked, her eyebrow raised in a surprisingly teasing manner. As crude as the Romans were, Anakin's predictable overreaction was too amusing for her not to goad him further. "What  _would_  you have of me, Padawan Skywalker?"

"You too, Padmé?" Clearly uncomfortable at this last and unthinkable betrayal, he looked away from the group and into the woods. "A Jedi knows restraint."

"Obi-Wan would be proud," Padmé answered diplomatically, and it did not escape anyone that she almost sounded disappointed as she said the words.

"You'll be husband and wife then," Octavian said simply, though his voice seemed less cold than usual. "It would be most natural."

"Wait," Padmé protested. Now it was her turn to feel uncomfortable. "Is that believable? Ani's a bit young here...especially for me."

"Actually," Octavian said, ignoring Anakin's undisguised ire at Padmé rebuke, "at his age it'd be stranger for him not to be married."

"Don't protest too much," Pullo said, the grin never leaving the brute's face. "I think both you like the idea more than you let on."

Turning to Anakin, whose cheeks she swore were red if their colors weren't masked by the dying fire, she hoped to find an ally, but for once he seemed completely at a loss for words.

"I liked it better when we were gods," Padmé muttered to him nevertheless.

* * *

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

Lucius Vorenus shrugged, not even bothering to look back at the two strange foreigners accompanying their already untidy crew of miscreants.

"They're Gauls. You needed some proper clothing... _Senator_. I don't see the problem."

Shaking her head, Padmé realized that the gulf between proper Core world culture and these Romans were too deep for her to communicate reason to them. Nevertheless, she persisted. "I understand I need to fit in once we reach your Caesar's camp. But couldn't you have traded some of your...credits, or something, to those villagers? Rather than robbing them at swordpoint?"

Titus Pullo seemed equally perplexed. "Trade with barbarians?" He looked up at the clear blue sky. "This must be a test. The gods are mad indeed."

"You're naive, I see," Octavian chimed in arrogantly to her frustration. "They would have cut our throats at the first opportunity, given one."

Padmé looked to Anakin for help, but he rode his horse expressionlessly ahead. Some Jedi he was.

"You are both warriors where you come from," Vorenus asked after a long bit of riding, surprising them both. He did not seem like the inquisitive type.

"I am a politician, though I've received extensive training in the combative arts," Padmé said, hoping to draw out more from the stoic seeming soldier. "Anakin here, well...," she brushed her mouth with one hand, "his...vocation, I supposed, is more complicated."

"I heard the word Jedi," Octavian stated boldly. "What does that mean?"

"Well," Padmé started, caught off guard once more by the boy's lack of pretense, "that is a term which evokes many different sentiments. But generally, the Jedi...they have served as noble guardians of the gala...of the Republic, for thousands of years. The Jedi Order represents peace, and diplomacy, and democracy, and the best principles accumulated over generations of service to the Republic."

They rode in silence for a minute before Octavian looked astutely at Anakin, who had noticeably looked away during Padmé's speech.

"You disagree, Skywalker?"

Anakin shrugged. "My master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, would speak the same." They rode on for several miles further in silence, before he decided he could no longer hold his tongue. "We are powerful, that is true. We possess powers...none in the galaxy could even begin to fathom. Yet..."

He looked towards Padmé, who subtly shook her head. But he decided to continue.

"The Jedi act more as priests as warriors. With our powers, we can take a more proactive approach in the galaxy, and right many wrongs. Sla..."

He was about to condemn slavery, which seemed prevalent in this primitive society, but even he knew better, considering that for now, they needed some allies on this strange world. To his chagrin, he received a sly smile from Octavian, suggesting that the boy knew the vulnerability that he dared not give voice to.

"Why are you a Jedi, and not her? Is it the adherence to your code? Her sex?"

"The Force," Anakin answered, unsure of whether or how to explain further. He looked towards Padmé for advice, but she only looked away purposefully with a sly grin, apparently miffed at having been ignored earlier. He turned back to the little noble boy. "It is something that flows through all living things. It animates us, and we give it strength. But though it touches us all, very few of us are born with the ability to feel it...use it..."

He heard a huff of indignation, this time from Vorenus, a rare reaction from the officer. "Magical powers? Sounds like a load of bulls' shit. No different than these barbarians in the woods who claim to summon their tree ghouls..."

Vorenus froze before he could finish his sentence, blinking in panic as his sword clanged against its sheath before extricating itself into the air, floating flippantly ahead of horse and rider. The centurion reached his hand impulsively towards the handle, only to see it dangle away with each try. He looked back at the strange boy, who grinned at him as he held one hand aloft, somehow extending an invisible reach many feet ahead upon his prized possession.

"That is your Force's work," Vorenus exclaimed, jaw dropped.

Anakin shrugged, ignoring the looks of awe from his Roman companions as well as the Padmé's clear disapproval. "Like I said, the Force flows through all of us. But the ability to use it..."

"Come from the stars, and...," Vorenus muttered after a harsh snarl.

"You're sure you're not Gods," Pullo said, equally flustered as the entire group came to a stop along the small road. "Maybe you bumped your heads when you dropped down..."

"I assure you we are mere mortals," Padmé said calmly, shooting another dirty look at Anakin. "Forgive my very young friend, for he can be reckless in his exuberance to prove his worth to strangers."

Now the one feeling uncomfortable, Anakin coyly moved his fingers to manipulate Lucius Vorenus's sword back to its rightful place, nevertheless eliciting another startled reaction from Vorenus as the weapon slid back into his belt.

"My apologies," he said more to Padmé than the Romans. "I merely wished to educate."

"Your education is noted," Octavian spoke for the first time during the exchange, his voice even as usual. He looked to the two legionnaires. "I expect you wish us to keep quiet these powers as well."

Padmé nodded as their progress resumed, though she noticed the sight of smoke rising above a gathering of wooden barriers and flags marking a large encampment not too far ahead.

"Your secret is safe with us," Vorenus said, shaking his head still in disbelief. "But do not be so arrogant as to think you can elude Caesar forever."

"Rome's annals are filled with one successful general after another," Octavian added. "But Caesar may surpass them all. Even Pompey Magnus."

"We look forward to meeting your Caesar then," Padmé said deferentially.

A succession of salutes accompanied the group through camp as they passed from station to station, Vorenus leading the way. Reaching into the back of the wagon, he pulled out a large statue of some type of bird mounted upon a pole and suddenly, the entire camp burst out into raucous shouting and cheering as each succeeding row of soldiers glimpsed the symbol, drawing a smile out of even the normally unemotional Vorenus.

Both the Senator and the Jedi observed the scene, watching as the vast legions of smelly, brutish soldiers clad in primitive armor appear to worship the golden emblem as if it were itself a God. Approaching a large tent at the center of the camp, they saw a tall middle-aged man, hair neatly and evenly clipped around his forehead and clearly projecting authority, step out to witness the scene.

"Good morning, Uncle!"

The older man, the warlord the Romans venerated as Caesar, let in a brief window of astonishment in his countenance. "Octavian?"

The boy steered his white stallion before his uncle. "I bring the warmest of tidings from mother, along with this gift from her to mark your great victory over the Gauls."

Two soldiers ran up to the child, and to Padmé's astonishment, one fell on his elbows and knees to give the boy a platform to disembark from his horse. Beaming with pride, the young man stepped forward to embrace his uncle.

"A magnificent creature," Caesar exclaimed in his deep voice and within earshot of the troops within closest proximity. "And the eagle! You came upon it on your journey."

"I cannot speak well enough of your men, Lucius Vorenus and Titus Pullo. They retrieved both the eagle and myself from a small band of the vilest barbarians."

"A magnificent surprise," a dark haired many stated haughtily behind the venerated general. "But we should expect no less from a Centurion of the Thirteenth."

"I see you made some friends as well," Caesar said, motioning towards Anakin and Padmé, both of whom had just disembarked from their mounts. Octavian strode over to lead them forward for their introductions.

"The same bandits had ambushed a trading caravan from Illyria shortly before they came upon my entourage," Octavian said. "Anakin Skywalker, accompanying his father, and Padmé Naberria Amidala, his wife, they meant to take as slaves, as they did myself." He walked the two over to his uncle and his compatriots. "This is my uncle, Gaius Julius Caesar, Consul of Rome. And General Mark Antony."

"Sky Walker," the younger man known as Antony remarked skeptically. "Fancy names you take for yourselves out in the provinces."

"My family comes from a small tribe in the hills, on the other side of the Pindus," Anakin recited almost robotically, remembering the backstory Octavian invented for them. "My father Obiwan heard of good fortunes out in the Spanish terrority, and we were on our way there when we met with trouble. They slaughtered everyone save for my wife and I.

"I see," Caesar said, with one eyebrow raised, and it was clear to all that their story was lacking. "Fascinating."

"Please uncle," Octavian interjected, "I bid you to treat them as our honored guests, as if they were of our own house. It was Anakin and Padmé who raised the alarm for your men to find us."

Antony walked over to their group, sauntering slowly past Octavian, then Anakin, then Padmé, before coming upon the two soldiers. "Is that true, Centurion Vorenus?"

"It is, General," he replied, though clearly uncomfortable with the lie.

"Very well," Caesar said, his attention clearly having moved on past their strange guests. "They will be allowed quarters and provisions until they are ready to proceed on their way."

Vorenus motioned his head towards a small clothed bag held by Pullo. "There is more we should discuss. In private."

Caesar nodded, pointing towards Pullo. "Legionnaire, please escort my nephew and his guests. Find a spare tent for them, then proceed back here. We will discuss your discoveries then."

Pullo saluted, and beckoned Octavian and the two to follow. Leading them through the camp, he exchanged a mirthful look at the younger boy.

"Well I'll be. Caesar's nephew truly. You weren't full of shit after all."

"You'll receive your reward," Octavian said plainly. "You know well of my uncle's generosity towards his men."

"What of our two godly guests," Pullo asked as they approached the outskirts of the encampment. "Every second we hide the truth we are defying Caesar."

"Caesar will believe your ignorance because it is not far-fetched," Octavian said dismissively, the hulking legionnaire clearly bristling at the insult. His expression turned pensive however, as he looked towards the two alleged merchants. "But Titus Pullo has a point. We may not be descended from the stars and with godly powers, but we are not idiots."

"Nor are we," Padmé answered diplomatically. It seemed a smooth transition that while Anakin spoke for them before Caesar's camp, she still held the upper hand with those within the know. "You must understand that all of this is as strange to us as it is to you. We must take our time in deciding upon a course of action."

"Understood," Octavian said, as Pullo led them towards their respective tents. "But understand that time is not to be taken for granted in these uncertain days."


	3. Chapter 3

"Pompey made his move. What do we do in return?"

Caesar's eyes moved from Antony, who had just posed the question, to Vorenus and Pullo, as if trying to assess the depth of their loyalties, and Antony's eyes followed his.

"Should I dismiss them," he asked, as both soldiers braced to bid a farewell salute.

"No," Caesar replied slowly. "The matter with Pompey I need to consider further myself." The tall Roman general walked over to the two soldiers. "What of these Illyrians?"

"Uhhh," Pullo started, not sure how to answer Caesar, "they're good people, sir. Simple people, from the countryside. Very tragic, what happened to them, right?" He looked towards Vorenus, looking for approval.

"Very tragic indeed."

"Hmm," Caesar muttered cryptically, leaving all in the room to wonder at his actual thinking.

"With all respect," Antony interjected, "but surely there are more important issues on Caesar's plate than one merchant couple, however tragic their circumstances?"

"Quite right," the general agreed. "But my nephew Octavian does seem quite taken by them..." His voice trailing off, he turned towards Pullo and Vorenus. "The two of you are dismissed."

Both saluted and immediately left the tent. Walking back to his desk, Caesar started sifting through his papers whilst his lieutenant paced casually around the small tent, awaiting the great man's pronouncements. For all he knew, Caesar knew exactly what he wanted and was letting him wait, just one of his constant reminders of who held the reins of their relationship, and there was nothing Antony could do but let the great man have his way. Finally, after several minutes of silent conversing, the older general glanced up from his papers.

"You will represent my interests in Rome."

"Rome," Antony asked, perplexed. "If it does come to battle, what good can I do there?"

"As Tribune," Caesar emphasized the title, startling Antony to a stop, "you can ward off violence if the situation escalates. But if it be unavoidable, you can see to it that I am not without allies."

Antony's eyes narrowed as his mouth widened into a sly grin. " _Tribune_...of course. I am ashamed to have doubted you, Caesar, if even for a second. Though the idea of having to sit and pretend to listen to those pudgy soft skinned aristos will try even my legendary patience."

The general did not share his sense of humor about the appointment. Looking at him seriously, even condescendingly, Caesar seemed to scold. "You will find that politics is a wholly different arena."

"I've no doubt," Antony said deferentially. "I've dabbled before, but I'm sure you'll further educate me of its ways."

"At the proper time," Caesar nodded, satisfied with his subordinate's obedience. He rose again, and approached Antony, so that he could lower his voice. "You will accompany Octavian back to Rome. You'll keep him safe, I'm sure. Keep an eye on him, for my sake. True friends among family are harder and harder to come by these days." Eyes narrowing, he parsed his thoughts before continuing. "And keep an eye on the Illyrians as well...just in general."

"Of course," Antony answered immediately, before allowing himself to further question Caesar. "Do you suspect something about them? That they're not who they purport themselves to be?"

"Not anything devious," Caesar said, still surprisingly unsure about the topic, "but there is something about their demeanor that...feels off. The boy carries himself like a soldier...not a trader. And the woman...she seems to have a bearing equaling any proper woman I know in Rome...my own wife, Calpurnia. Servillia. Even Atia. Carry her across the Aegean, and I could see her reigning as some sort of oriental queen...by the Gods, I have this notion that...cut her hair and dress her in a toga, and you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between her and someone like...Cicero, even, on the Senate floor."

"I'll say then," Antony joked, "better hope she doesn't get the notion to oppose me for Tribune." Studying the general, he saw little mirth in his eyes. Caesar was not a humorous man, and Antony allowed his smile to gracefully leave his lips.

But even the statue himself allowed himself a slight grin. "Well yes, that would be absurd indeed."

* * *

"You can take the bed," Anakin said shyly, facing away from Padmé. "Probably not much of one compared to your palaces, but it's better than nothing."

"Where are you going to sleep?" The Senator looked around the small, cramped tent. "The ground?"

Anakin shrugged. "I've slept worse on missions."

"Figures. Obi-Wan doesn't seem like the luxurious type."

Padmé walked up to the small bed in the corner.

"I saw some of the small cots they have in the other tents. I think they gave us a nicer bed as a favor. We are husband and wife after all."

Anakin frowned, wavering in indecision, not sure how to interpret Padmé's words. "So if they barge in and I'm sleeping on the floor, then...our cover's blown?"

He looked innocently, almost hopefully at Padmé, reminding her of a puppy dog begging for food. She smiled playfully; it was almost as if he was begging her to tease him. "Not necessarily," she said slyly. "Maybe I'm mad at you from a lover's quarrel."

She winced as she said the words, and watched Anakin's demeanor shift almost immediately. "We're lovers now, eh?"

Immediately picking up a small pillow, she threw it as hard as she could at him, though the boy had no problem using his Jedi reflexes to catch the pillow. "Don't test me, Skywalker."

"Oh," Anakin swore, the grin on his face grower larger and larger, "I wouldn't ever dare test a Senator. My wife, on the other hand..."

"Careful," Padmé said, gripping another pillow and ready to hurl it again, "or first thing I do when we get to Rome will be to find myself a good divorce lawyer. The best!"

Anakin gasped in faux shock. "Padmé! You're breaking my heart."

Padmé placed her hand on her mouth in mock regret. "I speak too harshly, husband mine. But remember the old saying...happy wife, happy life."

"Hmmm," Anakin grumbled. "Good to know. They don't teach us these things in the Temple."

He started moving over a small shelf to make more room for himself. "Can you toss me a blanket too," he asked, bending down and trying to smooth out the dirt and grass in his bed for the night.

Lifting the flimsy blanket from the bed, she ran it through her hands, frowning. "They only gave us one of these. And it's rather thin."

"Keep it then," Anakin said, shrugging as he looked back at Padmé.

"It's cold here," Padmé snapped back, clutching the blanket by her chest.

"I'll be fine," Anakin said, continuing his work on the floor of the tent. "Been almost eight years since I last fried on Tatooine, anyway."

"It's cold for me, too."

His body froze just as he was about to lie down. "Are you saying...do you..."

"We would keep each other warm." Padmé laughed awkwardly as she sat down on the bed, though she couldn't help but enjoy the discomfort she was putting Anakin through. Wagging one finger at him, she scolded, "but no funny business."

"Happy wife, happy life," Anakin repeated, and Padmé noticed the extra pep in his step as Anakin picked up his pillow and walked towards the got, though he hesitated when he got close to her.

Padmé rose and gestured for Anakin to climb in on the side closer to the tent wall. "If you don't mind though, I'll take the warmer side."

Anakin shrugged again. "I don't think there's much of a difference."

"And you're allowed to say nothing about how badly I probably smell," Padmé muttered as she laid down beside Anakin, rationing him half of the blanket as they both curled up on the two opposite sides of small bed, facing different ways and trying to avoid all contact with each other. "I haven't showered in days."

"You smell perfe...I mean...I don't...you don't smell at all. No smell. Not bad or good. Just..." He stopped, realizing that he was digging himself deeper with each word.

On the other side of the bed, Padmé tried stifling her laughter, though not all that successfully. "'Night Ani," she said after a minute or so had passed.

"Night angel," Anakin muttered out, already half asleep and clearly not fully aware of what he just said.

Padmé smiled, remembering their first meeting in similar circumstances, stranded on a strange land with strange people. What was innocent then no longer seemed so innocent now, but Padmé wasn't so sure that she minded.

* * *

Her dreams were rarely pleasant. Not that she suffered from frequent nightmares, but if Padmé could pinpoint one word to describe what little she remembered of her nocturnal slumbers the next morning, the newly minted Senator would likely cite 'stressful' as she usually woke to a vague jumble of meetings, political figures, documents, deadlines that merged all too seamlessly into the realities of her upcoming day. For some reason this morning, however, she dreamed of feeling at home, of the dozing off in the beautiful, endless meadows of the Lake Country on her native Naboo, of the bed she grew up on as a young child in a village deep in the mountains. Yawning peacefully as she drifted into consciousness, she was suddenly alert and cognizant of the fact that her pillow was slowly moving up and down. That her pillow was the chest of a very young Jedi Padawan, struggling not to breathe too hard. That his one arm was clutched between her own, as if it were a superfluous pillow or a stuffed children's toy. That to her growing relief, the horror she saw in his wide-awake eyes matched her own.

"Ani," she said, quickly drawing away, "I'm...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No worries, milady," the boy replied timidly, very much afraid to meet her eyes. Staring at the opposite side of the tent, which seemed many parsecs away, he muttered, "I guess these beds weren't made to fit more than one soldier."

Rising abruptly from the cot, Padmé pretended to shuffle around the room, even though she quickly realized that she had little to look for, considering she was light years away from any semblance of a wardrobe. "Agreed. I certainly can't imagine our friends Vorenus and Pullo bunking up in one of these," she joked halfheartedly.

"No," Anakin said, even as the tenor of his eyes changed. "Though I imagine milady may be more accustomed to waking up this way."

"Anakin!" Padmé scolded harshly, her indignation feral and instinctual, and the boy quickly backed down, looking as if he wanted to bury himself under his blanket. "That is no way to address a lady! And just so you well know, I am not so  _accustomed_...at all," Padmé asserted loudly. "Period!"

It was sad, she reflected, that the boy before her was actually one of the very few she had woken up in the same bed with in recent years. Not that it counted by any measure. Not that she was keeping count either, but there had been that second go round with Ian Lago, when Naboo finally rediscovered some semblance of stability after the Trade Federation invasion. But that attempt at rekindling what was probably a nonexistent fire ended not so long after its resumption. Then, more years of pouring herself into her work before meeting some well-meaning scion from a middling noble family on the other side of the planet. He was charming at first, but Padmé quickly gathered that he seemed much more comfortable conversing amongst the court sycophants than actually paying any heed or attention to her. Lastly, there was that short fling with the older, off world ambassador not long after her resignation as queen, followed not soon enough by the startling revelation that the man had a wife and three children back on Onderon. That last one made her swear off men for good, and as she surveyed Anakin in front of her, she decided that he definitely didn't even count as a potential  _man_  just yet. He was too young, too Jedi, and too much of an old friend.

Then she realized that, because their tent was so small, it looked like she was staring at him while she revisited in her mind her complete lack of a romantic life. Now intimidated by her again, Anakin himself played absentmindedly with the blanket, afraid to make eye contact but sneaking a peek at her every few seconds to see if she was still mad. It was remarkable how quickly he went from extreme shyness, to predatory, then back again. In a way, it reminded her of Ian Lago, though there were little similarities between the two aside from standard issue teenager hormones.

"I'm sorry, Padmé," he finally muttered out reluctantly, but sounding sincere. "I let my jokes get ahead of me sometimes. It's been a few days in this world, and I forget my place..."

"No, no, Anakin," Padmé said, walking back to the cot and sitting next to him. "It's not about place or station at all. It doesn't matter I'm a Senator or whatever I am, it's just...Ani...we're friends. And we go back a long time. But I haven't seen you in eight years, and we've only been reunited a few days...and I don't think our relationship is that...familiar, yet."

"I guess not," Anakin said, the boy sounding dejected. "I won't do it again."

For the first time, Padmé looked at the chastened Padawan and wondered what it was like to learn under the Jedi, and Obi-Wan Kenobi in particular. Despite his presence the entire mission, she remembered exchanging no more than a few words with Qui-Gon's Padawan. It seemed like to her that maybe this Kenobi was quite stern with Anakin, that he was someone who was more apt to tell the boy no, then explain patiently why not.

"Look, it's not a big deal," Padmé said, her voice purposely softer. "You clearly didn't mean anything ill with your comment, but sometimes you must understand that others may not perceive what you say the same as how you meant by it." She laughed, her thoughts still on Obi-Wan. "I guess they don't really teach you much about talking to women in the Jedi Temple, do they?"

"Not really," Anakin said, his shame receding, "though I have no urge to flirt with anyone else..." Quickly grasping his latest slip-up, Padmé struggled to hold her laughter as the boy's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. "Not that I was flirting..."

Rising and picking up her small bag of clothes, rags really, she let him stew in discomfort before looking at him with a grin. "Let's make a deal, okay, Ani? I'm not going to forbid you from flirting with me, but starting now, every time you do it, I'll do a little flirting with one of these dashing soldiers here. There's  _ample_  ones to choose from," she said, putting her index finger by her mouth and biting her own nail coyly. "Maybe I'll start with Pullo. He seems like a fellow who knows his way around the ladies..."

"Deal," Anakin grumbled as he folded up his blanket, clearly having learned his lesson about teasing Senators.

To his chagrin, Pullo was the first to greet them when they emerged from the tent. "Heard a lot of shouting in there. Another lover's quarrel, I imagine?"

To his further chagrin, Padmé smiled at the lumbering soldier in faux shyness, and Anakin swore she batted her eyelashes at him for a second. "Just teaching Ani here how to treat a lady."

From the legionnaire emerged such a deep, guttural laugh that seemed to originate from the deepest recesses of his lungs, that Anakin wished he could will himself to melt into the soil at that very moment, only to stand still as the big soldier walked up to him and clapped him soundly on his shoulder. "I don't know about  _this_  lady, kid, but anytime you need advice on  _the_  ladies, Titus Pullo is your man. Don't be afraid to ask, hmmkay?"

"I may just take you up on that," Anakin said, pretending to sneer at Padmé, who just shook her head.

"Good," Titus beamed happily. "That makes you already smarter than Vorenus."

Trying to ignore everyone and move on from somehow being the butt of everyone's jokes, the supposed Chosen One of the Jedi walked up to a weapons rack, where he picked up a sword. Feeling its weight, absorbing every fiber of its material from the blade to the handle, he initiated one of his katas, adjusting his pose and his motions to match the weight of the heavier but clumsier weapon. Aware soon enough of the curious eyes upon him, he nevertheless continued his motions, finding solace in one of the more monotonous routines of what had been his life mere days ago.

"Bravo."

Loud claps echoed through the camp emerging from near Caesar's tent, and even Padmé stared as the warlord applauded Anakin's exercises, though she wasn't sure just how genuine his appreciation was. Next to him, Antony seemed to study the boy with some amusement.

"Interesting form," the younger general remarked, "but can you spar?"

"General Antony," Anakin acknowledged. "Shall you test me?"

Antony laughed. "I was feeling a little bored this morning." Taking his sword from one of his lieutenants, Antony walked up to Anakin. Crouching into a fighting stance, he came slowly at him, parrying gently at his defenses. Knowing the soldier was taking it easy on him, Anakin effortlessly batted away each strike, his sword easily anticipating each line of attack from the Roman. While he kept his face blank, he felt the building frustration from Antony, who did not expect this level of skill from a lowly country merchant. Soon the attacks intensified, and though Anakin knew he should relent for the sake of his cover, he did not despite the ever growing number of soldiers who were now watching the match with intensifying interest.

The man was a skilled warrior to be sure, but without access to the Force, his fighting abilities barely matched that of the youngest Padawans in the Temple, and Anakin had little difficulty in brushing away each blow, which for all intents and purposes, came at him in slow motion. Then, he advanced, switching from a defensive to an offensive form, and soon found himself pushing the Roman back. He himself was holding back, knowing that he could not cross a line and actually hurt this general, who seemed to be a powerful authority figure in this world, whom he would have to rely upon. Which meant he could not afford to embarrass him, either, so even as he started to feel pangs of fear from Antony, he forced himself to move back on the defensive, letting Antony push and prod further than before, and backpedaling as he slowed his defensive blows just enough to barely ward off each strike. Finally, seeing the opportunity, he swung his blade in front of him, holding his muscles as Antony pushed forward, both of them locked in a stalemate.

To all the spectators it looked to be a draw perhaps with their own general prevailing narrowly in the end, and Antony shook his head as he quickly withdrew his sword back into its holster. Wiping his brow for effect, Anakin nodded and said in his most respectful tone, "quite a spar, General."

Antony shook his head, though he could not hold back an expression that Anakin couldn't decipher, whether it was a smirk or sneer. "Better than I expected, Sky Walker." He then turned and strode back into Caesar's tent, passing him as he went, and whispered so only Caesar could hear, "by the Gods, I swear...fucking kid let up on purpose."

Showing no reaction to the words, Caesar walked calmly over to Anakin, who was just now awake again of his surroundings, from Octavian, Vorenus, and Pullo who, despite knowing of his abilities, could not help but look shocked at seeing it in action, to Padmé, whose eyes radiated a mix of awe in witnessing him in combat for the first time, disappointment at how he couldn't help showing himself off despite the peril it thrust upon them, and not a small amount of amusement stemming from that same fact.

"Impressive for a merchant's son," Caesar said, clapping Anakin on the back just as Pullo had minutes earlier. Standing straight and trying to imitate the salute he saw from the other soldiers, Anakin realized now that he was solely responsible for the consequences of his actions.

"My father Obi-Wan trained me," Anakin said, trying to think up a plausible backstory. "He was a soldier..."

Fortunately, Octavian came to his rescue. "He fought with Pompey in Judea, before settling back in Illyria."

His face still a cipher at his nephew's words, Caesar bore his dark eyes into Anakin's for what seemed an eternity before glancing down and resting them on his borrowed sword. "Pompey lost quite the soldier then, for which I am glad at the moment. Keep the weapon, I trust it's in the right hands."

"Thank you, Caesar," was all Anakin could think of saying.

"Were you ever to tire of counting cows and goats, my legions are always on the lookout for able young men such as yourself."

With that, he was gone, back to join Antony in the tent. Wondering whether the topic of conversation will inevitably fall upon himself, Anakin walked cautiously back towards his group.

"Thanks," he muttered to Octavian, before trying to slip back into his tent. Ignoring the jabs and jokes from Pullo and Vorenus, his mind was fixated as he walked inside. Only Padmé joined him.

"I'm not mad at you, you know," she said. "Not too mad at least, though it'll be difficult to avoid attention now."

"I am sorry, but...," Anakin paused, unsure of what to say.

"What's wrong, Ani?" Now she was concerned.

"I'm not sure if anything's wrong, necessarily." Anakin walked back out towards the tent's entrance and, peeking his head out, saw no one nearby. "I don't think he knows it. Or even knows what it means, since there was no shielding at all. But Caesar is strong in the Force."


End file.
